shelter
by sherlockscarf
Summary: john and sherlock have a HUGE argument infront of the majority of scotland yard,sherlock storms out and donovan is a cow! chapter two has been finished and will be uploaded shortly. rated t because of tiny mention of self harm in chapter 2.
1. freak

Shelter

"Sherlock for god's sake! You need to stop doing this its not-"

"Not what john, go on say it, normal?"

"I was going to say polite..."

"Oh, really? Well, that's what people usually say, I guess you're different"

"Yes Sherlock, I am, I don't pick on you, like they do, I put up with you and your habits, habits which they label you a _freak _for, I understand you more than they do, and do you know why Sherlock? Because I am your friend"

"AW, that's all very touching John but apparently I don't have _FRIENDS_, remember?"

"WILL YOU GUYS JUST KISS AND MAKE UP!" lestrade yelled

"SHUT. UP. LESTRADE"! Sherlock shouted

Lestrade put his hands up in surrender, Sherlock and john were having a raging argument, in the middle of lestrade's office; lestrade was sat at his desk leaning out of the way rubbing his temples with Sherlock at one end of it, shouting at John and John at the other end shouting at Sherlock.

What made it worse was that most of Scotland Yard had turned up to look through the glass at the angry sociopath. John was trying to make Sherlock feel better because Anderson had called Sherlock a psychopath again and Sherlock had punched him in the face.

"WELL! If you WANT to listen to them Sherlock then I consider you my friend, and if you don't consider me as yours then I guess that settles it"

"Settles what?"

"That you don't _have friends_"

Silence, john regretted saying it as soon as he had said it, silence fell and everyone froze, lestrade opened his mouth to speak but shut it again when he saw Sherlock's face.

He was on the edge, his face was pale with anger and his blue eyes to flicker like fiery ice.

"Sherlock, I didn't mean-"

"DON'T! Just, please…. Just don't…"

He needed to get out of here, his head was spinning, it was happening again. He pushed the images from last time out of his head and spun around, moving towards the door crammed with people who jumped out the way. Sally Donovan was there, she slowly stepped out the way, meeting his eyes as he walked past.

"Freak"

He stopped and turned towards her, someone gasped and others moved back again, he met her eyes. And he snapped. He stormed out of the office, striding down the hallway and out of sight; they all heard the door slam.

She regretted it; she saw his eyes and regretted it. Pain was in those eyes, defeat, emptiness, they were the eyes of a broken defeated man. Not the powerful, smug, somewhat cheerful, insulting, bright, blue eyes of the Sherlock she was used to.

She had crushed the great man that Sherlock was, with one word:

_Freak…_

Inspired by the song by 'birdy': shelter, please listen to it while reading the second chapter. It gives me chills…

-you tube

-'birdy, shelter'


	2. lost

Sherlock, shelter, chapter 2.

( Roxanne is a character I made up, she is Sherlock's younger sister, she's about 18 years old and has the same deduction skills as her brothers, yet she is more sociable than them, if you want to know more about her…and her dog…read my story 'relative with a warning' thanks!)

P.s this chapter is a bit boring as I want to keep the chapters small so I cut it in half sorry

John couldn't find Sherlock. Anywhere. He didn't think Sherlock would go straight home so he checked Barts morgue first, every floor every room. Nowhere.

"Ah! Mike, have you seen Sherlock? Has he been here or…?"

"No, I haven't seen him john why, have you lost him?" mike laughed

"In more ways than one I dread" john sighed as he walked away

He decided to check the flat, to see if he had turned up there, left a note, anything.

He ran up the stairs and into the living room, Roxanne is sitting on the floor, her black greyhound x german shepherd (just imagine a lanky, skinny looking german Shepard) is sitting next to her, both of them wearing plastic experiment goggles and turn to look at him as he bursts into the room.

"Is sherlo-"

"He's not here doc, he text me 'I'm not coming back to the flat yet, don't tell john where I am'"

John stared at her "okay, so, where is he?"

She smiled and shrugged, "he didn't tell me"

"Well, he text you 'don't tell him where I am' so..."

"exactly, he's In a state, you saw him as he walked out of that door, he's told me not to tell you but he hasn't told me where he actually is going"

"Were you- never mind, how do I know your not lying to me?"

"If I knew where he was would I be here? He is a wreck doc, if I knew where he was I would be with him, not here doing experiments, Tai go and get the printer ink for me" she said returning to the bubbling mixture in front of her while taio ran over to the printer

"I said printer INK not printer TAIO NO- good boy!" the dog had been tugging at the cord of the printer before grabbing up the glass bottle next to him and dropping it in Roxanne's hand. She patted him and poured it in the mixture, it stopped bubbling and instead turned a bright icy blue colour and then it turned into ice. Blue ice, with flecks of green.

I turned away and decided to call Mycroft; he should know where Sherlock was.

"Sorry, john but he completely disappeared, I have know knowledge on his whereabouts"

"But you always know where he is, how could he have slipped past you?" john meant 'you' as in your cameras and spy's and private army he didn't doubt he had.

"The same way Roxanne has, you still haven't seen her have you?"

John looked over his shoulder at Roxanne who was now teaching taio how to use a Bunsen burner, the dog was sitting quietly watching her and wagging his tail, before turning the Bunsen burner on and winking at john in the way it did.

"Uh no, not since the last time you asked" he lied

"That is a pity…"

"Uh, Mycroft, if you do find him, you will, you will tell me where he is, won't you?"

"That john, depends on the state in which I find him in"

He hung up.


	3. bloody memories

Shelter, chapter three

Listen to the song while reading this please (birdy, shelter)

Sherlock opened the huge oak door and stepped into the place of his childhood. He stepped cautiously into the hallway, looking around, so many memories…

In front of him was the stairs to the 1st floor, 6 meters wide, gold with a red carpet running down the centre, but it all looked grey, the lights had been switched off a long time ago, and old cobwebs were strung across every window, portrait, photo, dust laid over every surface. The moon light shone through the windows behind him illuminating everything in an eerie grey/blue colour.

The stairs split half way into two separate stair cases, tracked in opposite directions and then turned and met again in the middle where the stair case split, creating a balcony to look down at the stairs, he remembered when he and Roxanne had stood looking over that balcony, waiting and praying for Mycroft to ascend those stairs with his college friends, so they could shower them with water balloons.

Where the staircase split on the wall was a giant tapestry of the Holmes family tree, the faces of each family member was painted in, he always looked up to the first Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Holmes.

There where two doors either side of the huge area he was standing in, he remembered it all, the portraits, the statue of Arthur on one side next to the door to enter the east wing and another of his brother Harry Sherlock cobalt Holmes next to the door to the west wing, whom he was named after. Arthur had kind eyes and light chestnut hair, Harry however had Sherlock's expression of knowledge and prestige.

_Defiantly a sociopath_ Sherlock thought to himself

He stepped onto the first stair, remembering the creak it made, it was all the same as he remembered, the creak, the stains where fires of the young Sherlock's had gone out of control and singed the carpet and destroyed a banister.

It was like nothing had changed, but of course everything had. He reached the parting, saw the colourless picture of Arthur and turned right to the west wing where his old bedroom was, he reached the balcony, it was still grey up here, grey and black from the moon light that was flooding in through the windows behind him and at the other end of the hallway across from him, we walked forward, towards his room, tracing his hand across the old black banister that had stopped him and Mycroft falling to their deaths so many times before, the wood was smooth like marble as he dragged his hand across it before he finally got to his bedroom door, he stopped in front of it, turning to stare at the door.

Flashbacks from last time, blood on the door handle, laughter from inside and the thump as his bloodless body collapsed on the floor.

He flinched as he remembered the memory, hearing the noise, Mycroft had the room cleaned but he knew it would never be the same.

The door loomed up in front of him, dark and imposing, it still had all the old signs, _keep out _and _explosions in progress_ and his favourite: _Mycroft bugger off you old- _Mycroft had ripped the rest of it off.

He stepped towards the door and heard his laughter again and the thump and cringed as he reached his hand out to twist the bloody…clean… handle. It was all the same as last time, history repeating its self, words all different but all the same whispering in his head as he reached out to the round iron handle

_Drown… shoot…hang…knife…fall…blood_

His hand got closer to the handle and they got quicker,

_Scream, kick, pain, alone, grey, empty, fire_

He touched the handle and the last whisper echoed in his head

_DEATH…_

He opened the door, it creaked and he stared around his old, grey, dusty romm, cobwebs hanging off old experiment, dust laid like a sheet over his old yellowing sheets of his bed, the red stain, that had not come off the carpet…

_It would be a lie, to say that I have never felt this way before, _he thought to himself _the question is…How far will I go this time?_

_AHA cliff hanger! Review and I'll write the fourth chapter!_

_-Alice =D_


	4. liar liar umbrella on fire

Shelter, chapter four.

Okay this chapter isn't as good as I had wanted it to be, its sort of 'all against Mycroft' because he was a complete arse in 'scandal' and I have been giving him the silent treatment. Remember, reviews are my fuel, without them I break down and can't write anymore…. HINT! HINT! o_-

On that HINTING note I would like to introduce you to the 'lets kill Mycroft' chapter 4

=D

John sat in the flat thinking, where was Sherlock?

He had been gone for hours, it was getting dark…

_God I sound like an overprotective mother, Sherlock can take care of himself, he's a grown man for god's sake! _

Images flickered in the back of his head, Sherlock blowing things up in the microwave just to see what would happen, Sherlock running over roads and sliding over the bonnets of cars, Sherlock putting knives in the toaster to prove it was a myth…

_No, he's like a child…_

John grabbed his coat and moved towards the door, before turning back to Roxanne, he didn't actually know where he was going…

"Where did you all grow up?"

"What do you mean?" Roxanne frowned but she didn't take her eyes off of the now flaming liquid, taio was staring at it intensely, tilting his head to the side whenever the flames turned colour, apparently he wasn't colour-blind.

"Well, you all had a family home didn't you? Can you tell me where it is, Sherlock was saying that you all grew up in the same house and that Mycroft owns it now…"

"yea, its filled with dust now, no-one ever goes there, last time the front door was opened was when- I'll give you the address here, pen" she handed me a blue biro and told him the address of 'Holmes house', although it sounded more of a mansion than a house.

"Thanks, I'll be in touch if I find him" john turned to leave, adrenaline starting to seep into his body, firing up his muscles and making his head spin slightly.

"What will you do if you do find him?" Roxanne spoke from behind him, he turned around, she and taio were standing at the end of the sofa, she looked younger, blue eyes wide with concern for her older brother, she looked like a little girl, pale hands twisting around a tuft of hair on taio's neck, the dog looked up at his young mistress and nudged her elbow, offering comfort and support.

"I don't know, I suppose it depends, on him, I'll make sure he's okay, look out for him, even if he can't see me because.. because he doesn't want to…" he turned to leave again, but she reached out and touched his arm

"Don't tell Mycroft will you! He- he doesn't make things better for Sherlock, he, makes, he makes them worse." She bit her lower lip and stepped back again

"What do you mean 'he makes things worse'" john asked

"Uh….He, um, he has a way, of… of getting inside Sherlock's head, he… Sherlock won't ever admit to it, he'll see it as, giving in, I suppose, its Mycroft's fault, he gets inside his head..."

"Roxanne what do you mean?" john asked, getting worried now…

She sighed and run her hands through her wavy blonde hair, blue eyes drowned in worry "let's just say, Sherlock's more human than you think" she sat down on the sofa, staring at the flames…

"More human? What- what do you mean more human?" john asked raising his head higher, concern growing….

"More human than Mycroft"

John nodded and bolted out the door, Mycroft knew exactly where Sherlock was.

sMycroft was a liar…

8D aha, okay, short chapter I know, incredibly short!

Cliff hanger again! AND this chapter didn't explain anything about Sherlock… AHA!

Okay I'll upload the 5th one…. IF, you review, yes YOU! You there reading this message and wishing me to an early grave.I'll tell you the reason why, this story was supposed to be a quick drabble and well, its not, I have no idea where this is going (I have decided) and now realise that where it was going was into a hole, in the ground, because I would have just killed it.

If you want you can REVIEW! Could help me out with some ideas because I have one idea, but its just crap…it's too jumpy and there is no reason behind it what so ever and it's a bit fairy princess at the end…

Do you want to see Sherlock d-I will tell you no more…


	5. on the edge

Shelter

Okay soz it took so long to get out, you know, stuck with ideas and I just got back to school and the teachers thought it would be fun to drown us in essays and HWK… =P

So here it is…. The next chapter. Enjoy =D

Sherlock

He sat under the old window, light flooding in over him… making his face look pale, silvery, his eyes, deep black holes with silver iris'.

_I find shelter in this way, under cover, hide away… _

Sighing he took his gun out of his pocket, placing it on the floor beside him. It was making him un-comfortable.

He reached a hand out to the dresser beside him. The bottom draw. And slid it open,

_Where is it? Where? Whe- there! _

He rolled it in his fingers, tempting himself before searching the draw again for the lighter.

He placed the cigarette in his mouth, shielding the flame as he lit the end, and taking a long, relaxing drag.

Looking up at the cracking ceiling, old, yellowing... Mycroft's cleaners had missed a smudge of dark red blood…

He broke down completely.

Tears streamed down his silver face, sobs shook his long frame and the cigarette burned a hole in his trouser leg as he drew his knees up to his chest, stinging the side of his leg.

_Freak, freak, freak, FREAK! _

Echoing in his head, turning his insides, scorching his brain…

He dropped the cigarette all together, it spat sparks up as it hit the floor, but he didn't see. He ran his hands up his temples, digging his nails into the back of his head his; he needed something stronger than a cigarette, or he was going to crack completely…

His mind mapped its way to the needle, in the top of the chest-of-draws…

John

The taxi was going slow… so, so _slow_!

It seemed like HOURS before it pulled up in front of the huge oak door of the _Holmes House_.

"Thanks" john said to the driver as he handed him the money.

Running up the concrete stairs his body shuddered to a halt as it reached the door.

He didn't have a key.

He should knock. _No, Sherlock… Sherlock won't open the door for him. Should he call for him? No, he'll hide if he knows I'm here… right, it's the window then._

There was a window to the left of the door, it wasn't locked.

-Mycroft

He could hear laughter. Sherlock wasn't in a good state. Had he learned nothing?

Mycroft Holmes put a hand up to his younger brother's ajar door. The papers that had been pinned to the door (far longer than they should have been) fluttered in the breeze that was dancing out of the room. It was a cold breeze, which meant that the window was open.

Sherlock was sitting sideways on the window sill. Looking out into the dark night, the icy breeze tugging at his hair and making the curtains dance in front of him occasionally, Mycroft would see Sherlock, then his silhouette, Sherlock, silhouette, Sherlock…

"Don't" Mycroft said quietly, Sherlock sighed he looked down, the wind tugged from underneath him, trying to pull him down, out of the window, to the dark, concrete floor below him. The ground that seemed to call to him, promising to soothe his pained head, heart… _At least three stories down… _

_Sherlock…silhouette… Sherlock… silhouette… Sherlock… silhouette…sher- nothing…Nothing!_

He was gone, no-one sat on the windowsill, there was no-one there, Mycroft let out a soft "no" before dropping his umbrella, rushing swiftly towards the open window, cool air mixing with the tear that had escaped and stinging his face, the curtains brushed in front of his face, trying to cover his eyes from the sight outside the window, his brother-

Sighing, and brushing away the sweat, the fear that was stroking his brow, he pushed open his brother's door; it swung open lightly, creaking slightly. He stepped in.


	6. aren't i?

Shelter

John found himself in a large, square room. It looked as though he had stepped into the middle ages, there was a huge oak table surrounded by at least 15 chairs, a red, frayed rug sat under the table, and a huge mirror was hanging on the wall tho the left. It reminded john of the one they had in the flat, only bigger, MUCH bigger. On the far wall, opposite john there were four portraits, illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the windows on the wall behind him. There two women and two men in old, Victorian clothes, one of the men reminded john a little of Sherlock, same eyes, same knowing expression. Like he had just deduced everything about john as soon as he had fallen out of that window.

Only he was smoking a pipe, and was wearing a deerstalker.

Sherlock had nicotine patches and hated hats.

No questions asked, if john ever saw Sherlock wearing a hat, especially a deer stalker, then it must be nearly the end of the world.

On the wall to his right was a large oak door with a (what looked like, and probably was) a gold handle. John strode towards the door and reached out his hand to pull down the handle.

He pushed it down, the gold was cool against his skin, pulling the door towards him he-

It was locked, frowning he pulled it again, and again, and then rattled it just to be sure..

Locked, definitely locked

"DAMN IT" he shouted out, then covered his mouth… Sherlock could still be able to hear him.

~Sherlock~

I was angry, Mycroft had followed me AGAIN!

"I don't need your help!" I shouted at him

"Sherlock, don't be so childish" he purred

"_I'm_ being childish? YOU followed me here Myc!"

"I'm concerned"

I rolled my eyes in a reply

"You shouldn't let this get to you Sherlock; we've had this conversation too many times before…."

"Oh _of course I remember now!_ All those years of childhood and 'lessons with Myc' on how to behave and be manipulated by your older brother, well, here it is Mycroft, your finished, piece, your revenge to the world, a wrecked and ruined man on the verge of death!"

"You are not on the verge of death Sherlock, stop this nonsense…"

I held up the needle, "aren't I?"

Sooo really short chapter…. Again HA


	7. calls that sent him to sleep

Shelter

Okay so here's just a little tip to hopefully destroy your confusion.

The last part of the last chapter was a dream. It was Mycroft's dream, he had dreamed it from Sherlock's point of view, sorry to confuse you guys, I hope this chapter makes up for It.!

p.s my laptop completely died, so I'm having to use my brothers for a while when I can get it! Listen to shelter by birdy whilst reading thank you!

~Mycroft~

He woke up in a cold sweat. Sitting up in bed, he rubbed his temples.

He hated that dream. Not dream, _memory,_ from Sherlock's point of view too, it made it all that more scarier, _feeling_ the confidence in his voice, the _certainty _and _defeat, _the way it must have _felt _to his brother. Coming to terms with death and ending. Mycroft shivered at the thought.

Pulling the covers off his legs he climbed out of bed.

He was going to find Sherlock he _needed_ to find Sherlock.

Last time Sherlock hadn't had the chance to empty the needle into his arm. He had been physically restrained and shoved into the back of Mycroft's car, carted away to his house and locked away from the world for a while until he had the strength to go out and face it again with the old confidence.

Mycroft was late this time. He was going to go, he _was._

_That's brothers for you, always letting you down._ His brother's voice glared into his head.

~Sherlock~

I was staring at the wall.

Nothing else to do.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored!

I picked up the gun beside me.

Flicked the safety off.

Bang, bang, BANG!

Into the walls.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Need something else to do.

_Freak…_

"Who said that?" I asked into the moonlight room.

Dust floating in the streams of light.

_It's not normal…_

"Shut up john!" I shouted, bringing my knees up closer to my chest, my heel clipped the half empty needle, sending it rolling forwards, it rolled back then forwards…..

_Freak? Oi freak! Freaks here bringing him in…_

"SHUT the HELL UP, sally!" I shouted, running my hands through my hair and pulling my head back so quickly I felt it slam into the wall, a wave of dizziness rolled over me and the room blurred, grew black and then normal again.

_Say that to me again and I'll kick your precious brains out!_

A smile creeped over my mouth "you were murdered three week's later Kevin, look who solved it too" I laughed, I couldn't stop, it rumbled up from my stomach, bouncing around my head and falling out of my mouth, I sounded insane, I probably was. Freak, that's what I was.

Someone was whispering, I could hear them.

_I can see you… I know what you're doing… I can hear you…_

"Who are you?" I whispered back

_Leave me alone…_

"Where are you?"

_Stop listening to me…_

"Stop talking"

_GO AWAY_

"Where are you!"

_I can see you… I know you are there_

A shiver ran down my spine

_I know your there… You can't hide from me…_

It sung, a voice I recognised but I couldn't place its face.

_I can see you… your just there…just there… I can reach out and…_

My insides coiled and nausea swirled in my head, making me gag

_I can see what you are… you're a…_

"DON'T SAY IT!" I screamed, I knew who he was. He was me… but not me….

_Don't admit defeat… NEVER give in… don't shout when I can just…_

I was going to be sick, I heaved again, falling onto my hands and knees, heaving and choking, heart racing….

_You're a FREAK!_

"SHUT UP!" I screamed

I shot up, dizziness showering over me and I stumbled, holding onto the wall for balance, the room was being turned over, I fell into the wall, it spun back again and I fell into the bad post, it rocked and swayed until I fell onto the floor again.

_Shut up, go away, I need to be alone…I was invited, I think he wants me to take a look…_

"Leave my voice alone!"

_Don't speak out loud, whisper, whispering whispering…in your ear… but I'm not in your ear… I'm in your oh-so-perfect-_

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" I rolled over, pushing myself up, holding on, head spinning, world falling…

_MIND!_

I stood up, stumbling towards the door, I could hear john, he was calling my name, he could help, I _needed_ him!

_He can't hear you!_

"JOHN" I called his name, tears rolling down my cheeks, I was dying, my insides burned and coiled, like a snake, poison running through my veins, pulling me under. The world heaved again, tipping me onto the floor, onto my back, rolling me across the other side of the room

_He's here with me, he's not real… he's in your head… your CRAZY! YOU ARE A FREAK._

My heart was hammering in my chest, my head was spinning, I was heaving, my body lurching forward as it tried to get the drug out of my system, the room spun around me and I fell onto my back, choking, gagging. I felt like I was lying in the ceiling, looking down at the floor below me, dizzy, dizzy, the world heaved again, and the _empty_ needle rolled past my eyes, the needle had broken out, I flicked my gaze to my wrist, there it was, stuck In my arm, then it was swallowed into a stream of red as I felt warm blood gush out of my wrist.

Ooohhh! Uh oh! Another cliff hanger I do love those! REVIEW and I'll fight my bro for his laptop a bit harder, you never know… he might just _fall_ out of a window…..

-Alice =D


	8. crimison shadow

John

I had manage to pick lock the door open.

Hey, Living with Sherlock taught me some useful stuff

The door creaked open, I found myself looking into a long, dark hallway. Pictures and portraits masked the wall, eyes watching m as I creeped deeper into the silent house. As soon as the door behind me closed I no longer had the light from the moon to light my way, digging into my pocket my hands curled around my phone, I took it out and used the light to lead me down the dark hallway.

It was dark, and scary, chills ran down my spine as I creeped further into the hallway.

_Bang, bang, BANG!_

Someone was shooting into the wall_Sherlock_ I thought and my steps quickened, echoing through the hall

"SHUT THE HELL UP SALLY"

Faster, faster…

The hallway came to an end, left or right, left or right?

Left

Crashing into the wall and shoving off of it, my mind raced with my legs

_Sally? Why is sally there? She's not… she can't be… she's not, just Sherlock so- oh god no…_

My strides got bigger, I wasn't using the light from my phone anymore, blind panic and worry was showing me the way.

There was laughter, hysterical laughter; he was drugged, completely and utterly off his face.

I ran faster, slamming on the breaks and taking a sharp left again, finding myself in a room with a huge staircase, the front door was on my right, but I ran up the stairs, two at a time.

"Where are you?"

I could hear him, hear him talking…

"DON'T SAY IT!"

I turned right, thundering across another hallway…

There was a loud thump; I knew it was the sound of his body, crashing into the floor,

"SHERLOCK?" I shouted I was lost; I needed to know where he was…

"JOHN!" he shouted back I carried on running down the hall, I could see a door that was partly open

"JOH-"

Another thump, faster, faster…

I fell through the door, Sherlock was lying on his back, body shaking and heaving.

I felt the blood drain from my face

"What have you done?" my voice shook, he was lying in an ever-growing pool of blood, face pale eyes rolling.

His wrist, half a needle was sticking out of the skin, blood draining out from underneath it.

"Okay, Sherlock? Sherlock? Can you hear me?" I asked, the doctor kicking into my system with a wave of adrenaline. And something else… fear.

He let out a groan, I took that as a yes.

"I need you to talk to me. Can you do that?"

"Yes" his voice was weak, slurred.

I moved his head onto the side, my hands were shaking and I could feel shivers of dread dancing down my back.

"Why did you run Sherlock?"

"John…"

"Sherlock you _need _to talk to me"

"My hand hurts"

"Of course it would, you have half a needle and a massive slice in your wrist, now, no! Sherlock, stay. Awake"

"It hurts"

His eyes had rolled back, eyelids fluttering shut. I hadn't passed up the opportunity to slap him in the face.

"I know it hurts, but you need to keep speaking"

I needed to find something to cut off the blood flow from the wrist, I hadn't picked up any bandages, I'd left in a hurry, I needed to stop it or he'd die from blood loss.

"Sorry Sherlock you're not going to like this"

In one swift movement I slid the needle neatly out of his wrist, he let out a cry and heaved again but that was it.

I reached over his limp body, hand grasping his blue scarf that was slung over the bed post.

With expert and experienced hands I wrapped the scarf tightly around his wrist. He had grimaced when he saw the scarf, but had allowed me to use it anyway.

Picking the phone out of my pocket I dialled Lestrade.

"Lestrade, I need you to send an ambulance NOW!"

"Wh- john? Why? Is everyone okay? Is it Sherlock?"

"Yes, look, get them here as quickly as possible, I'm not sure how long he can stay awake"

"Why? What has he done? Its baker street right? 221b?"

"NO! No, we're at his old house, childhood home, 'Holmes house'? In Walkern? Get them here now, Lestrade, please!"

"Okay, we're on our way now"

The line goes dead.

Sherlock isn't breathing.

My heart is caught in my throat.


	9. caring is not an advantage

Mycroft opens the door to his brother's hospital room, the smell of antiseptic stinging his nose.

He never did like hospitals.

John is sitting in the chair next to Sherlock, staring at him. The rise and fall of his chest. The bandage over his wrist. The bag of blood dripping into his arm.

"You look tired doctor, you should take a rest" Mycroft smiles.

"I don't need a rest" john snaps back, never taking his eyes off his friend, lying stiffly in the hospital bed. Relaxing as he realises the intruder in the room is Mycroft.

Mycroft sighs and walks over to where john is sitting, flicking his umbrella up. He can see the bags under his eyes, his fist clenched, the tremor in his leg. And the walking stick leaning against the chair.

"John…"

"Mycroft I need to stay here, I need to stay wi-" john looks down at his fist, breathing in deeply and then looking back up at Mycroft. "I need to make sure it's all… going to be okay"

The older brother smiles, studying the tip of his umbrella _sentiment_ he thinks. "It is all going to be okay, you heard what the doctor said, he just needs to rest. Like you"

"I don't trust that doctor" john clenches his jaw, staring intently at the bandage over Sherlock's wrist._ That's been done wrong…_

"no, you don't trust anyone to look after him but yourself, get some rest doctor" Mycroft purrs, knowing he's right "you know you need to sleep, you've stayed up all night, and most the night before, you're not like him" he points his umbrella towards his sleeping sibling "you need sleep"

John smiles, Mycroft's right, he can't expect to be any use to Sherlock when he wakes up if his eyes keep closing "okay, but if anything happens-"

"I'll call you" he smiles. John stands up, pulling his coat off his chair and taking one last fleeting look at the figure on the bed before leaving.

Mycroft's smile drops as soon as the door closes "he's gone" he say's sighing. Sherlock groans and opens his eyes, lifting his head up off the pillow that seems intent on suffocating him, before letting it fall back into place.

"I thought he'd never leave" he groans

Mycroft rolls his eyes "he _cares _about you" he walks over to the chair john had been sitting on and sits neatly in it.

"I never would have guessed!" Sherlock sighs, sarcasm lacing his words

"What happened" Mycroft snaps, glaring at Sherlock as he struggles to free himself from the thick duvet

"What are you talking about Mycroft" Sherlock sits up, glaring at the duvet

"I mean what. Happened! What happened to 'caring is not an advantage'?" he asks, but Sherlock can see the fire in his eyes.

"I don't know, you're the one that came up with it remember!" Sherlock replies, adding fuel to the flames

Mycroft grits his teeth "don't act like that Sherlock, you know what I mean" he snarls

Sherlock smiles and cups his head with his hands, "enlighten me!" he jokes

Mycroft smirks back "Sherlock, define 'caring is not an advantage" he purrs. Sherlock realises where the conversation is going and turns towards the wall.

"I'm a grown man now Mycroft I don't need any more of your '_lessons'_"

"Sherlock….."

"Caring is not an advantage, to not care about anyone, because it will only lead to trouble" Sherlock sighed, picking at a piece of thread on the duvet

"Good, it also means not to care about what they say." He praised before his features turned dark "so why did you"

"Because it got to me! John isn't- he's not like other people he- he…" Sherlock returned to picking holes in the duvet

"He isn't what?"

Sherlock glared "he isn't any of your business, good bye Mycroft."

Mycroft raised his head "you care about him don't you" he stated "why did you call me here"

"I can't tell you anymore" Sherlock turned back to the wall

"What do you need help with Sherlock?" the elder brother asked, trying to get Sherlock to come out of his shell

"I won't give into you like this Mycroft"

"Sherlock, tell me what you need"

"I need you to help me get away!" he burst out, Mycroft raised his eyebrows "I need to get away from him!" Sherlock looked down at the sheet, regretting everything, angry at Mycroft and the power he held over him, how he could get him to speak, to say things when he didn't want to.

"Why" Mycroft asked. It all came down to this, it always came down to this

"Because caring is not an advantage"

Mycroft leant back in his chair, so it was true then, Sherlock does care, about john, and about what john say's. What the doctor said to Sherlock hurt, got into a crack that it shouldn't have found. This means that Sherlock does actually care, it also means he has a weakness….

This is bad

"No"

Sherlock's head shot around "what do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean no I will not help you, at least not now, you need to recover before we talk any more about this" Mycroft stands up, his word final.

"But will you" Sherlock's voice calls out from behind him

"Maybe" Mycroft replies softly, his hand falls on the door handle; he opens the door into the cool hallway.

"You've lost a few pounds since I last saw you, Mycroft; you're not worrying about me _are_ you?" Sherlock's voice has gained a bit more ice to it "because you know, _caring is not an advantage_"

Mycroft smiles, his brother is coming back, "I worry about you constantly Sherlock, the pompous twat who made up that rule is a bit of a hypocrite… don't you think?" he smiles before leaving, the soft chuckle from his younger brother filling his heart with warmth.

Well, about as much warmth as Sherlock can give towards his older brother.

OKAY soooo sorry this took so long! I know, it's really crap too! But I had loads of revision and coursework to get finished and my horse decided to run into a barb wire fence and gain a few injuries and then I was walking in a straight line today, at ordinary pace and I twisted and broke my ankle so now I've been shoved into solitary confinement with my laptop so really I had no excuse but to start writing some shit for you guys….

I am sorry!

Also for those of you reading 'fire and ice' the next chapter should also be out shortly, its just I've nearly finished shelter so I'm trying to get one thing done at a time and just learn to deal with it okay? Please, I am rushed off my- foot…. Just one foot…*rolls eyes and chucks crutch across room* okay, so please just don't give up on me! I am trying my bestest!

For those of you who have twitter, my user account name is "alicetiva96" so you can question me if you want :)

Fin… (For now….)

*and breathe*


	10. Chapter 10

He needed to get away from here. No, that was wrong. Away from _him._

But he didn't want to have told Mycroft that.

Mycroft had come up with 'caring is not an advantage' as an attempt to shelter him away from people, from sentiment, from caring from those who could hurt you. He had protected him when his Dad had gone, his family dead and mother- _well_…

He come up with it, and tried to use it to fix Sherlock, to find the pieces of the shattered boy and glue them back together after he had fallen off his thin, so very thin line that he danced on, the line of- Well, whatever you wanted to call it, sanity? Morality_? _Humanity?

But the cracks would always show, no matter how many times Mycroft tried to cover and protect them with 'not an advantage' 'sentimentality is a weakness' 'feelings will only cause pain'. In a way they did mask the crack, but they also created their own problems. Like Sherlock didn't feel. Sherlock didn't care, Sherlock is a machine. A machine that can sometimes break.

This is why he wished he didn't tell Mycroft that he needed to get away from john, because he had put up a fight against Mycroft's…_lessons_ for a while. Years even. Saying he didn't need them, he could take care of himself. In telling him he needed to get away from john, he was telling Mycroft he cared, and that meant he hadn't won those fights after all, and was still dependant of Mycroft.

He sighed, and relaxed deeper into his hospital bed. He wished the pillows _would _smother him. And get him out of this mess once and for all

_And then what would you be remembered as?_

**Ugh, not you again, go away.**

_You'd be remembered as someone who gave up. Someone who wouldn't stand up for himself. Someone who was weak, and not smart, someone just the same as everyone else._

**Everyone else would want to give up too, now shut up and leave me to die. If you really want to help, show me a way out of thi- no wait don't, I can do it on my own.**

_Exactly. Besides, I've given you help already, I don't want to help you again…_

Sherlock took his hand off of his forehead, letting it flop down on the bed beside him. And frowned.

_**~Three days later~**_

"JOHN GRAB YOUR KEYS COME ON!"

"Sherlock, do you really think you should be going on this case? I mean, it seems a bit… lengthy, and you haven't recovered properly, and- we need to hire a car, I cant drive, and _I _don't think you can either, and I'm certainly not getting in a car with you!"

"of course I can drive John! Don't be so stupid!"

"do you have a drivers licence?"

"…no"

"god help me"

John skulked into the kitchen, snatching his keys off the counter (they were next to the toes) and walked into the living room, seeing Sherlock standing waiting for him by front door smirking "where is it we're going again?"

"the moors apparently, oh this is going to be a good one john I can feel it!" the detective smiles as he rushes down the stairs, leaving the doctor to trail un enthusiastically behind. "Oh come along now john! Don't look like that, it'll be great, somewhere new to go, London's great for murders, but this- THIS john will be an adventure, an adventure we didn't see coming" he exclaims as he reaches the front door

"its unexpected, especially as you hated the idea to begin with"

Sherlock smirks and opens the door, turning to see Mycroft standing on the step outside. His smile drops "what are you doing here?" he snarls

Mycroft smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes "I may ask you the same thing, hello John"

The doctor peers round Sherlock, spies Mycroft and the glare Sherlock is shooting him and raises his head, intrigued "hello"

"I'm going out on a case"

"I though you were going" Mycroft shoots Sherlock a meaningful look

"I decided against it, besides, _it'll be an adventure"_ Sherlock puts emphasis on the last bit, it sounded mocking, playful, but it meant much more.

"well, its certainly an _unexpected_ adventure" Mycroft purrs back

Sherlock glares deeper into Mycroft's eyes

**I don't need you anymore**

Mycroft smiles back

_We'll see_

_Fin._

_Possibly. Probably. We'll see._

Yes, last chapter. That wasn't that hard now was it?

Okay so hi. Very long time I know, and I said I wouldn't complete it sorry about that. I hit writers block, panicked a bit and then just couldn't be bothered to finish it. Sorry. Yeah, well its done now. Also I found this in one of the previous chapters and it REALLY HIT HOME GUYS!

'_No questions asked, if john ever saw Sherlock wearing a hat, especially a deer stalker, then it must be nearly the end of the world.' _

It hurt because Sherlock wore a deerstalker in scandal, and then he jumped off a roof. And Johns world ended. IT HURTS STILL.

god Sherlock you're such a twat.

So es, you guys seriously, all the awards, you are the greatest for not giving up on me, and staying loyal I cant even. I ACTUALLY love you, you are all of a higher human being standard than I am. Any questions or if you want to throw some abuse my way feel free to PM me.

Xxxxxx

a slightly drunk Alice

xxxxxx

ALSO did you get the 'hobbit' hint hidden (in plain sight) in this chapter?

You should have.


End file.
